The Wails of Code White
by eleanorlavish
Summary: This is a fragment set during the face off with old Barty on the ship.  Jihl doesn't die, and we learn that she and Sazh used to mean something to each other.  Jihl/Sazh?  I guess.  Not finished yet - you've been warned.


Thank you Darkgirl5 for beta reading and encouraging me. You are the best! I decided to take the step and post this on ffnet. This is a fragment set during the face off with old Barty on the ship. Jihl doesn't die, and we learn that she and Sazh used to mean something to each other. Jihl/Sazh? I guess. For now. Not finished yet - you've been warned.

**The Wails of Code White**

The walls echo with the unchecked wails of Code White.

Six Pulse monsters crawl over five twitching bodies of flesh and bone; a grotesque display of death, sweat and sinew.

Acid boils and bubbles in my stomach when I look at the thing wearing Sazh Katzroy's face; a monster that butchered my old mentor from the inside and now wears his shell as a disguise.

The light filtering in through the glass ceiling fails to penetrate his dead eyes.

'Been looking for you Nabaat!' he says.

I smirk at the familiar use of my name; my enemy is taunting me with memories that he stole from his kill, and I respond with white heat. He does not yet know the pain that can be experienced by the human body, and I will be glad to fully acquaint him with it; I will make sure he is familiar with every type of suffering there is.

My hands finger the sharp edges of the buckle at my throat and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. How I long to sink a rusty blade just under the surface of his skin and tear at the nerve endings. I can already hear the jagged object grating against the soft wet tissue. His feeble body would make him scream, shudder, beg me to stop, but I would just keep working on him; I would keep steadily peeling away.

There will be no reprieve for this deceptive form of evil when I get my hands on him. When he falls unconscious, I will wake him with the shock of electricity and water. When he begs for help, I will kick him in the stomach with the heel of my boot until he bleeds out of every orifice he has. Before he has a chance to leave this world I will take his dignity, his power and turn him into what he truly is: a monster. C'ieth hell will be nothing compared to the one that I will share with him.

He will rue the day he and his kind came to destroy my world, my Cocoon.

I acknowledge the Primarch – a symbol of the wonder of my home – before I leap down onto the control room floor to face my enemy. This great leader, this wise old man looks at me with such pity in his eyes that I know that my soul must be a lost cause. He knows that I will not come back from this kill. It is too personal, too intimate a burden to be assessed and unloaded as a PSCIOM incident. The monster still wears the face of my friend...the soft hair, the deep brow and the way he-…I know that I will not be able to walk my soul back from such a damaging paradox.

This is the burden that will drive me to insanity.

Pulse has taken a lot from me, from my people and from my home but I will claim this one l'Cie before I die. Nothing will steal that cold victory from me. I can already taste the monster's warm blood on my lips. I can feel the pieces of his l'Cie flesh trapped under my nails and the mix of blood and water tickling the hairs on my skin. His coloured bile will decorate the floor around him. The disgusting, putrid and disfigured thing will be put on display and exposed as inhuman.

I draw out my baton, warmed by the heat of my body, and herald my own charge. There is a note of fury in my voice that carries over the pealing of the ship's alarm. Less audible is the sound of metal gliding over metal; the l'Cie are producing their weapons.

My enemy removes himself from the five others and takes long strides towards me. We lock eyes and I allow him a glimpse of the hatred I feel for him. Voices command him to return to the safety of his kind, but he continues to draw closer. He slides his fingers over the triggers of my friend's pistols and points them high.

He thinks I'm going to hit out with my baton first.

He's wrong.

I run past him so that he has to pivot. The heels of his boots make a squeaking noise as he turns. We're so close that I can see the smears of blood and sweat on his coat sleeve.

He depresses a trigger pointed at my temple.

I grab the nearest exposed wrist with my free hand and jerk it outwards before he can blast a hole in my skull. The gunshots emulate a series of explosions and I resist the urge to cover my ears as I continue to manipulate his aim.

Two bullets hit me and my bones rattle with the shock. The pain in my leg is viral. It burns its way up to my pelvis and flares outwards as I twist away.

I clench my teeth, tense my good leg and send a weak front-kick to the closest knee. He lets out a small gasp as the point of my long heel sinks in. I squeeze my baton and aim for a quick jab at the side of his face.

The steel-lined shaft slams into his lower jaw with a loud 'crack'! He tilts the barrels of his guns upwards and I take the millisecond I've got to get out of his way.

I order myself to run.

The smell of fire and gunpowder heats up the room. The noise is thunderous. The little pieces of metal that fail to hit their target whisper and whistle as they ricochet from one point to another, seeking something soft to dig into.

My heart is in my throat as I sprint towards a wall of computers. Sweat is pouring down my neck and loose strands of my hair get caught up in my mouth as I switch angles and duck behind the machinery.

Electrical sparks and blue flames flicker and die on the GIS equipment that I hurl at him. Pieces of rubble and paper shoot up into the air around me and then pelt downwards.

The first onslaught ceases and I inhale a lungful of dust before facing him again.

I push the small button on my baton and the long cat-of-nine-tails snaps out behind me. With a turn of my wrist, the barbed tails follow the line of my thumb and sink their teeth into the l'Cie's flank. The little hooks dig in and I begin to pull at the thing's skin with all my might.

It's too much for my wounded leg. The throbbing pain forces me to drop to my knees, but I do not let go. Someone screams, and the l'Cie arches his back as the taught whip drags tracks of blood across his side.

Two of the others run forward to defend him. One of them, the traitorous wretch with red hair, pulls out a binding rod. I remind her of my strategic advantage by tugging hard on my enemy's skin. He buckles down to the floor and groans.

His pain is satisfying; it fuels my rage.

She makes the choice to free him rather than to face me. I snort at her cowardice and turn to assess the one disguised as a GC.

Someone hits me from behind with a substance that has no taste and no smell. They're using their foul magic on me. The pain it brings soaks into my back like a cold chill; it makes me shudder, but I don't crumble.

I adjust the grip on my weapon with a grimace.

They can hurt me all they want; my prize will not escape this day alive! I don't care if I have to personally crack open the rib cage of every Pulse l'Cie to get to him! He will not live through this day!

I see that there are still a few hooks embedded in his side that he has not managed to remove and I use them to rip at his skin.

Thunder erupts from an old Blazefire Saber and I start rolling towards the buttress on my left. A bullet cauterises my shoulder and I let out a scream as it connects with the cold floor. Puddles of my own blood trickle into view and I let out a roar of defiance.

They will not have me. I will take them all with me. He is mine!

His eyes are full of fear. He has been freed from my barbs, but he can see the determination written on my face.

Something jerks me off balance. A line of fire burns its way down my spine and I discover that the red-haired girl has used her binding rod on me. I can see the wire twisting out from my back at an odd angle.

She gives me a cruel smile and tugs. She thinks she has me.

The callous smile fades when I get to what is left of my feet and throw myself towards him!

The wire begins to stretch and the pain pulses through me.

I hear the warning sound of my coat ripping and my brain freezes over.

My neck convulses.

My bladder clenches.

Each wire breaks free from my skin with a sickening 'snap'.

Warm fluid runs down my back, and I resist the urge to retch. My aching body will never forgive me for tearing it apart, but at least I'm free.

The distance closes between me and my prey. He holds up the pistols that don't belong to him and he aims. Fool! Doesn't he know that my purpose makes me invincible? He will die this day! For certain, he will die this day!

'_Why don't you leave, Jihl?'_

My heart stops.

The familiar voice runs over me like a bucket of iced water. The pain from my wounds threatens to overwhelm me as I lose my momentum.

It's the Primarch. That can't be right. I must have misheard.

His brittle voice carries across the room again.

My head is swimming and I can't hear what he's saying. Have they taken him; have they hurt him? I reprimand myself for forgetting Cocoon's leader in my anger and selfishness. I've left him vulnerable and in harm's way.

I can't see him.

'What?' I call out to the voice. 'Your Eminence?'

A gust of wind whistles past my ears and I turn to see a ball of white light coming towards me. The ship floor reverberates with its power.

My baton bounces and tumbles across the floor.

Blood runs down my stockings.

I can smell my own fear.

It sucks me in.

I've failed.

* * *

><p>The world shifts back into focus like a bad dream.<p>

People are screaming. Soldiers are scrambling out of their chairs and trying to get away. White electricity snakes towards their chests and envelopes them; it sizzles and crackles long after their tongues are lolling out of their mouths.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Silence.

I blink, and behold a black sky. It is a strange picture without stars. A shadow flickers in its horizon and I take a step towards it.

My boot clicks on a flawless glass floor. I stare down at my legs in amazement. No blood. Not a bullet wound in sight.

'_You will taste agony.'_

I shudder at the cold and mechanical voice, and yearn for comfort.

An enormous rug unravels across the floor. Bookshelves take shape. Green curtains drape down elegantly onto a marble floor. It's my apartment. I'm on Eden.

I can hear a clock ticking. No. It's my metronome. I look over at where the mantelpiece should be and the darkness rolls back so that I can see it. The needle ticks a gentle rhythm as it sways back and forth.

'_Submit!'_

Something moves in the corner of my eye and I jump. My baton is already out and extended before I realise that it's walking away from me.

It's a woman. She seats herself down on my piano stool and smoothes the folds of her silk pyjamas with exaggerated care. One hand comes to rest on her stomach and she traces small circles over it.

My heart sinks. I traipse the soft pile of the rug to take a closer look. She adjusts the position of her glasses and reaches out to finger the black and white keys.

'_Witness my power.'_

The stool creaks. She lets out a strangled cry. Red blossoms begin to flower on her pyjamas. I reach out to help her, but she latches on to my wrists and thrusts me away. Her nails draw blood on my skin.

A shuddering breath escapes her. The blood pools on the stool around her and starts to trickle onto the floor.

I can see the fear immobilising her.

She stares right at me, but I'm of no use to her.

'Yaag!' she screams.

* * *

><p>My eyelids flicker down and up. Dust and fire assails my nostrils and makes my tear ducts weep.<p>

'Hold on,' comes my mentor's unmistakable voice. He sounds furious. A strange warming sensation radiates through my torso. I can feel my heart palpitating and fluttering like the wings of a chocobo chick.

A steel door closes. Someone switches a light on somewhere, and I can see colour, shapes and daylight. The sheet of darkness melts away to reveal curls, expressive eyes, and Sazh's hands pressed down on my stomach.

It's a trick. Sazh Katzroy is dead; gone. The Pulse fal'Cie took him. He's not here anymore. The l'Cie who took my friend is playing another trick on me.

'Get away from me,' I say with as much effort as I can muster. The monster shakes his head and continues to concentrate on my stomach.

'Not until I have you healed up a little,' he replies.

He wants me to live?

He wants to turn me into another slave.

'Get away from me!' I scream louder this time. I try to push his hands away, but I'm so fucking weak. He wrestles with me a little and then gently eases my arms down. I'm helpless. I am at his mercy. He can do whatever he wants and the most that I can hope for is to drop back into another nightmare.

A fretful cry escapes me, and to my everlasting shame, I start weeping.

'Stop that!' says the gruff voice.

I order myself to stop the tears but they won't go away. I can taste saltwater in my mouth and I turn my head shamefully to the floor. The cold surface vibrates against my cheek and I close my eyes.

He lets out a long-suffering groan, the same one my mentor used to use when reading PSICOM reports. Two warm hands reach around and pull me upwards. He props me up against something solid and assesses my injuries with a sad and weary demeanour.

This is a Pulse monster?

I glance at the folds of his clothes and spy the brand on his chest. It offers a moment's reassurance...until I look into his eyes.

Human eyes.

There's a soul behind them.

Oh sweet fuck, why is there a soul behind them?

'What are you?' I ask, unable to keep the panic out of my voice. He can't be human. Please don't let him be human.

'That really matters to you, doesn't it?' he mutters.

Rage washes over me. Unacceptable!

He's supposed to be a dangerous monster with no emotions, no morals and no thoughts except for his focus. He's supposed to have no soul. The Pulse fal'Cie should have taken it during the branding. Pulse _needs_ its slaves to be poor, nasty and brutish. It's what makes them the perfect tool.

It's what allowed him to watch his son die right in front of him without shedding a tear. It's why he would not avenge his son by killing the monster responsible.

I reach up, grab his lapels and pull him down to me in one quick jerk.

'Game time is over!' I snap. 'Who are you? Answer me!'

He narrows his eyes. 'You know who I am! Did you hit your head too hard when you were trying to kill me?'

I'm amazed he can be so casual about this. 'I was going to torture you first! Do you realise that?' My back spasms, reminding me of the damage I'd inflicted on myself in order to get my claws on him. I grit my teeth. 'I would have killed you!'

He looks upset. Finally! He rips my fingers off his coat and rolls back onto his knees. 'The feeling was mutual!'

'I noticed. Tell me, how many soldiers did you kill today, Captain?'

'Too many.' He clenches his fists. 'And you know it didn't have to be like that, Colonel!'

I feel so bitter. 'I did what was in the best interest of my nation-state, murderer!'

'Right back at you!'

I open my mouth, hesitate and bite back my next below-the-belt response. I know I'm trying to punish him for my own horrible mistake but I can't help it. If I'm wrong, if Pulse l'Cie are just like Sanctum l'Cie, then it has a huge impact on the war. The current approach to the Pulse threat within Cocoon will need to be reassessed.

Rosch will need to know that his strategy has a hole in it. He'll need to take another look at our security measures as well, mainly the Purges. At the very least the sweep teams he sends out will need to know that they're dealing with human emotion. I can't understand how the Sanctum texts could have been so wrong. They were the same resources that had helped me to understand what Dajh had to do, and there they had been more or less reliable.

Dajh.

Rage boils inside me when I think about him. I look at the friend I thought I knew and ask him the one thing that bothers me the most about this whole mess.

'Why didn't you kill her? She destroyed your son!'

He stares at me. I can't tell if he's angry or confused. I wonder, not for the first time, if he remembers the events of Nautilus. Maybe the Pulse fal'Cie that branded him took that moment from him. Maybe he was absent for the entire thing.

It would explain why I thought I saw a monster.

The ship rumbles. I look around and discover that we're just outside of the control room. There's not a living soul in sight, but there are sounds of a battle raging nearby and I strain my ears to ascertain its direction. I hear voices, but I can't make out what they're saying.

'Jihl.'

I look back and see that the anger has faded from his face. He lets out a shaky breath and then leans in to kiss me on the face. It's soft and soothing. He lingers over me, sharing and indescribable sense of warmth. His hand weaves itself into my hair and he stays there, close to me, just like he used to.

'I'm sorry,' he says, 'you didn't seem human anymore.'

There's a hint of pity in the air and it irritates me. He caught me weeping like a coward, and now I'm paying for it with empathy-driven hugs and humiliation. It's not comfortable, but I think I'll bear it in exchange for having my friend back.

He wraps his hands around my arms and gets to his knees.

'Stand up,' he says.

'On what?' I'm confused. I look down at all the blood on my legs and wonder if he's being sarcastic again.

'Stand up Nabaat!' he snaps, and then uses his strength to pull me to my feet. My stomach, my back and my feet scream in pain as he forces me to straighten. I let out a small cry as one of my ankles give way, and he mercifully ceases the action. I try to kneel back down to the floor, but he pulls me into a hug so that I can lean on him instead. He won't let go of me.

I try putting some weight on my feet, and discover that I can stand on them.

'There's a chance he'll wake up,' he says in my ear. 'There's a chance I'll see him again.'

And the hits just keep on coming.

I push away from him and ease myself against the wall. 'Don't do this.' Don't do this to yourself.

'I have proof!' he argues. 'My friend...the girl, Vanille...the one you arrested at Nautilus?'

The name makes me go cold, and I resist the urge to smack him upside the head. He has clearly gone insane.

'She was a crystal, and then she woke up.'

I say nothing. I understand him perfectly, but his words are borderline delusional. He knows that's impossible. Dajh is a crystal forever. He is dead forever, just like Sazh will be in the future. He will destroy Cocoon and then he will die too. He has lost his mind. Either that or the behemoth posing as a child is filling his head with Pulse lies.

He sighs. 'Don't you get it? If there is any chance that I can see him again, I've got a reason to go on.'

Scraping noises are coming from the steel door. The lock is being lifted by someone on the other side and I grow nervous. I grope for my baton and find that I'm unarmed. Sazh is already loading his pistols, and I snatch one out of his hand before he can protest.

We're still loading them when the door groans on its hinges and reveals what's behind it...


End file.
